


Loser, Interrupted

by albabutter



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bigotry & Prejudice, Childhood Sweethearts, Coming Out, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albabutter/pseuds/albabutter
Summary: “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to work with him.”“Do you know what the hospitalization rate is for potion accidents? And it might not even be an accident!”Bev rolls her eyes but swears not to leave him.It doesn’t really help. Eddie is terrible at potions, which makes no sense because it should just be science. He can follow intricate directions with no problems whatsoever (invigoration potion in the morning, half a tablespoon, calming draught no later than 2pm, quarter cup, sleeping draught no earlier than 9pm, half a cup). But it doesn’t matter that he stirs six times clockwise, then 8 times counterclockwise, and that he takes the time to evenly cut up their ingredients, without fail, Richie beats him.“It’s an art, not a science darling.” And Eddie should have punched him for the stupid accent alone.Or, the Loser's Club Harry Potter AU No One Asked For





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me. Each chapter should equal a year in school, but because of that, the length may vary and also I lie and that might change.
> 
> I've made changes to the structure of the actual schooling part. By JKR math, which is super suspect, the school size is roughly 200 which is insane by US standards. Let's say that in total, the school's population is ~2000 so class scheduling is fudged a bit. Just don't pay attention to that. 
> 
> Also, this is a pro-slytherin writer, so I will defend Bill and Richie being in those houses for their positive traits.

Their first year goes a little something like this: 

Eddie meets Bev first. 

He’s alone in one of the train compartments, and he tries not to notice the people who glance in, see him, and keep moving. He tells himself that they’re just looking for their friends, but he sinks lower into the seat each time someone passes by. He’s debating whether or not he can eat a chocolate frog as long as he eats the low fat, high fiber granola his mom shoved into his bag when a girl pokes her head in and gives him a little smile. 

“Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?”

She’s pretty. She’s got bright red hair, red lipstick, and she’s got her wand tucked behind her ear. And she said _ “with you”, _ and that is just so much better than _"in here". _Eddie nods because he doesn't want to scare her off, because when he tries to talk, he’s either an incoherent mess or a ranting disaster.

“Thanks! I’m Beverly, Bev actually. You’re Eddie, right?”

He looks at her, confused, because he’s only been on the train for ten minutes, and how can there already be rumors if he hasn’t even introduced himself?

“I heard you saying bye to your mom.”

And that is just so much worse than any rumor or joke that she could have heard. For a woman who cared so much about appearances, Sonia Kaspbrak never failed to make a spectacle of herself out in public. 

“_ Eddie-bear don’t you dare get on that train without saying a proper goodbye. _”

There’s a phantom ache in his cheek from where she pinches, and he barely stops himself from rubbing at it. He shrugs. 

“Yeah, she’s just...a lot.” And he’s not really sure what he means by that, but it feels true. She’s his mom, and he loves her, but he knows that she’s not really like other moms. He couldn’t tell you what’s wrong, isn’t even really sure if wrong is the right word. But there’s something there.

Bev shrugs too. “Sometimes a lot is better than none. Or better than too much.”

She looks faraway, and what she says doesn’t really make sense either, but Eddie nods because it feels true too.

“So, are you a first year?”

Bev nods, bright smile back in place. “Yeah, I can’t believe it. I’m so nervous though. What about you?”

Eddie hesitates, watches her tear into a pack of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, and thinks nervous doesn’t even begin to cover it. He doesn’t know how to say that he’s never been around this many people before. That he’s already itching at just the thought of flu season. That he’s never spent more than two nights away from his mother in his entire life. He keeps it simple.

“Yeah. I’m really nervous too. 37% of students say they’re nervous to start at a new school.”

Bev blows a bubble but pops it before it can really balloon.

“Well, I’m in good company then.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and it’s bright blue, and he kind of falls in love with her. He hands her a chocolate frog, warm and slightly smushed but still eager to hop along, and when she smiles at him, he thinks that maybe she falls for him a little bit too. 

* * *

Eddie surprises everyone, himself included, when gets sorted into Gryffindor. It feels like the hat barely touches his head before he’s stumbling off the stool and guided to the table. He doesn’t know anyone and doesn’t know if they’re clapping for him or laughing at him, but either way it’s better than Slytherin. His mom’s voice is a hiss in his ear, “_not that snake pit...they’ll eat you alive, nothing but animals in that house...you stay away from them._” She's put the fear of Salazar in him, and he doesn’t even glance at the table. 

Eddie watches the sorting continue and crosses his fingers that Bev gets sorted with him too. 

He gets lucky, and she slides into the seat across from him, glowing. She glances at the line and leans over to say something, “Eddie-” but she gets drowned out by a large swell of laughter. There’s a boy with dark hair and coke bottle glasses at the sorting stool. Except he’s not sitting, he’s standing. On the stool. With the hat on. It’s the kind of spectacle that makes Eddie want to die inside. The Hat pauses for a while, way longer than Eddie, before shouting, “_ SLYTHERIN _!” The boy saunters over to the table with finger guns and laughter. Eddie kind of hates him. 

Eddie clings to Bev like a life jacket, and she rolls with it. He thinks it works out for both of them--someone to partner with in class, someone to study with in the library, someone to help you find the stuff your housemates “misplace”. 

For a house known for bravery and friendship, Gryffindor has more than its fair share of assholes.

Eddie should have it easier. He’s a pureblood, and a few people recognize his name. He should have come to Hogwarts already knowing half his classmates from quidditch little league and neighborhood socials, and even summer camps. But after his father died, the outside world became just that--outside. And Eddie stayed in. Always. It had taken personal reassurances from both the headmaster and the school nurse to convince Mrs. Kaspbrak that Eddie would be well taken care of, and she would always be kept in the loop. So, all anyone knew about Eddie was that he was the weird kid who never left his house and still held his wand like he was scared of it.

_ (He has mixed feelings about it. It can hurt you, but it can also save your life. He’d endured many lectures about the dangers of keeping your wand in your pockets but also of letting it out of your sight, and Eddie ends up relying on a fanny pack to keep it on him. That doesn't help either.) _

Bev’s a muggleborn, and no one in Gryffindor gives her shit about it, but she rubs a couple girls the wrong way--Eddie doesn’t know how, and neither does Bev--and it’s easier to just spend time with Eddie. He likes to think he’s her codex for magic and takes to it with gusto. He’s never had a friend before, let alone a best friend, so she feels like more than enough. He tries not to take it personally when she brings Mike into their orbit. 

It’s hard to dislike Mike. He’s in Hufflepuff and friendly without being loud. He’s in their Herbology class, and he helps Eddie untangle himself from the Devil’s snare and rubs his back as he comes down from his panic attack. The most important thing is that he doesn’t try to bogart Bev. He hangs out with both of them, more than willing to sit down for games of exploding snap or trips to see the giant squid.

(Eddie’s terrified of it, stays a solid thirty feet away from the edge of the lake at all times. Bev teases him a little, says that the squid is just a lonely creature minding its own business. He rants about tentacles and water cleanliness and very carefully avoids mentioning that he doesn’t know how to swim--wasn’t allowed to _ learn _to swim.)

Eddie and Bev don’t talk about their parents. Or family in general. There’s an instinct there that makes it clear that home stuff needs to stay at home. It’s the same instinct that told Eddie it wasn’t normal, especially in the wizarding world, for one kid to have to take so many pills and potions, that no kid should be so consistently ill and never see an actual mediwitch. 

Mike’s family comes up once. Bev is arguing about whether or not being muggle born would count as an unfair advantage for Muggle Studies. 

“I don’t see anyone saying that being a pureblood is an advantage for History of Magic. Mike, what do you think? Wait, I never asked. Are your parents muggles or magic?”

Mike is quiet, and he’s gripping his quill hard enough to break it. He sees Eddie watching him and relaxes his hand. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

And Eddie doesn’t think it’s as simple as that, but he knows a sore spot when he sees one. Bev does too, and she glosses over it effortlessly. 

“Of course not, never does. All I’m saying is that you guys better watch your back, because I’m going to kick both your asses in both classes. Get ready.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and stage whispers to Mike. “Ten sickles says she copies my next quiz in Binn’s class.”

“I have _ never_, you little turd.” Bev throws a wad of parchment paper at him, and it bounces off his forehead and onto Mike’s arm. It doesn’t really fix the awkwardness, but it makes Mike smile a little, and they move on best they can. 

* * *

Eddie is the one who brings Stan. He meets Stan in the library, and they have the world’s most passive aggressive fight over a table. They agree to sit on opposite ends, and they exchange awkward waves and head nods in class. Eddie sits with Bev in every class, so they never partner up. But then Eddie comes down with the flu, and for once it actually is the flu, and it’s so awful and really puts it into perspective how _ not _ sick he’s been in the past. Madame Pomfrey is a miracle worker, but he still misses learning the severing charm. Bev is brilliant and beautiful and Eddie’s best friend. But she has the handwriting of a serial killer and no concept of what good notes look like. But when Eddie is released from the hospital wing and goes back to the dormitory, he finds a stack of notes on his bed.

Bev snickers when she sees them. 

“Don’t look at me. Your Ravenclaw boyfriend asked me to give them to you.”

Eddie blushes a little and sneers at her. “I never thought you did them. I can actually read them. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

And it’s true, Stan isn’t his boyfriend. But he is a friend. He’s somehow even quieter than him and Mike. But he’s whip smart, and he laughs at Eddie’s jokes, and he doesn’t give a shit about quidditch, but he always pulls out the sports page from the daily prophet and drops it off at their table. Eddie doesn’t know what Ravenclaw is like, isn’t sure why Stan hangs out with them instead of his own housemates. Eddie asks, and his words come out meaner than he wants. 

“How come they don’t like you?”

And what he’s really asking is, why doesn’t anyone like you? us? me? 

And Stan, Merlin love him, gets it. 

“Maybe _ I _ don’t like _ them _.”

And Eddie leaves it. Cause what he hears is, _ does it matter _? I like you, and you like me. End of story. They might be outsiders, but they’re outsiders together.

Eddie and Stan go home for Christmas and Hanukkah, and Eddie, not without a little guilt, wishes he could just stay at Hogwarts. But he’s riding high on magic and friendship and thirty sugar quills, so he rides the train home with high hopes. 

It’s an agonizing two weeks. His sweets get confiscated, and his mother strips him to poke at his ribs and ask about his joints. It’s annoying and humiliating, and four months of having his own space and limited supervision has drastically lowered his tolerance for this kind of smothering. He doesn’t quite shove her away, isn’t brave enough for that, but he snatches his clothes away and closes the door to get dressed. She pries, and it grates on him. He’s got four months of stories to tell and excitement to share, but his mother’s gaze and sharp words make him clam up. 

She glares at any mention of Bev but latches on to Stan. Smart wizard trumps dirty witch every day of the week. She finds frogspawn soap and a dungbomb in his trunk--gifts from Beverly, and throws them out without hesitation. Eddie doesn’t speak to her for two days. Christmas is, as always, a quiet affair broken only by sad stories about his father and his mother bemoaning the state of the world. His gift, as always, centers around a new med kit, and he pretends like he needs it, instead of saying that he hasn’t had to use a single damn thing from the one he already has at school. He gives her a teacup he transfigured out of a flower and counts the days until he’s back at school. 

When he comes back, he’s probably the only student who looks worse now than he did leaving. Bev takes one look at his face and pulls him into a hug. She doesn’t ask, but she murmurs “_w___elcome_ back _” into his ear. She slings an arm over his shoulder and drags him into the Great Hall where Mike and Stan are waiting. 

* * *

Bev brings Bill, and Eddie has a nervous breakdown. He sees them chatting after a quidditch match, and Mike has to drag him away. When Bev joins them inside, he can’t keep it in. 

“Are you dating a _ Slytherin _?”

Bev looks startled and then annoyed. 

“First of all, that’s not your business, and second of all, so what if I was?”

“Because they’re monsters! They don’t even like muggleborns. You can’t-”

Bev goes from annoyed to furious in a second flat. Mike and Stan both edge away. 

“_Excuse me _?”

And it’s not fair, because when Eddie gets upset, his voice gets shrill and squeaky, and whatever he’s trying to say gets drowned out by jokes about his balls not dropping and what it’s like to piss off every dog in a twelve mile radius. But Bev goes low, indignant, and ready to throw down. It’s kind of terrifying, and he can’t blame Mike and Stan for leaving him alone to face her.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do or who to hang out with. Ever. If I want to date the entire Slytherin quidditch team, then I will. And if I just want to have a new potions partner, _ then I will _. You’re not my f-” And whatever she was going to say dies in her throat, and she stomps away instead. Her face is blotchy, and Eddie knows she’s going to cry, and he tries to follow her, but Mike pulls him back by the strap of his bag. 

“Don’t.”  
  
“But I didn’t mean-”

Stan shrugs and fiddles with the straps of his own bag. “Doesn’t matter. You hurt her feelings. You gotta apologize.”

“But do it later. I think she wants to be alone right now.”

Mike and Stan are both nice about it, but they definitely herd him into the library and away from the common room. 

As far as fights go, it’s a short one, and she hugs him when he apologizes. And he doesn’t say shit when Bill joins their table in the library. 

* * *

Bill is a pureblood, like most Slytherins--like Eddie, and he never tries to apologize for it. But he’s never an asshole about it either. He stutters pretty badly, and Eddie hears more than one Slytherin mock him for it, and Eddie guesses that maybe Slytherin loyalty doesn’t run all that deep either. He’s almost as good at Wizard’s Chess as Stan, and he’s the one who convinces Mike to show them where the kitchens are. He stutters hardest around Bev, but he argues quidditch with her hard enough that there are four actual shouting matches. The most important thing he does though, is he teaches Eddie how to fly. 

Eddie Kaspbrak has spent 99% of his very short life dreaming about being on a broomstick. Sonia Kaspbrak has spent 100% of his very short life making sure he’s not even in the same room as a dust pan, let alone a real broom. She even went so far as to request he be pulled from the flying lessons, insisting that he was too delicate for such strenuous activity. 

Being excused from class in front of everyone had been one of the most humiliating days of his life. He could feel how hot his face was, and he knew he was gonna cry, and he knew that the rest of the class knew too. There had been a few snickers in the common room, but they had been nothing compared to Henry Bowers, a total shitbag even by Slytherin standards, who had ridiculed him very loudly and very publicly in the great hall. Stan had found him in the library and sat down next to him and worked on his homework. He didn’t say anything, but he tapped his wand on his face before he left, and Eddie knew that the tear stains were gone. So, yeah, he’s pretty much accepted that he’s gonna live and die flightless. Until Bill drags him out onto the quidditch pitch at five am on a Sunday and hands him his Turbo. Bill stays on the broom with him for the first half hour. But eventually, Eddie flies by himself. 

Eddie has never hated his mother more than when he flies around the quidditch pitch by himself for the first time. 

“Head’s up kid!”

Mike joins them on the field and chucks a quaffle his way. Eddie reaches for it, because _ yes, finally _, and completely wipes out. It’s not a far drop, and the ground has a cushioning charm on it. But still. His knees are a mess, and he can’t breathe. And it’s totally worth it. 

“Walk before you run, kid.” Mike lands on the ground next to him and holds out a hand to help him up. Bill runs up behind him. 

“S-s-sorry, Eddie. Probably s-s-should wait t-til you c-can s-s-steer with your knees.”

And Bill looks sorry, but he’s also got a grin a mile wide, and Eddie’s glad Bev brought him too. Right up until Richie Tozier. 

Eddie throws an absolute shit fit when the group decides, over his loud and completely justified objections, that there is “totally room” for Richie to join them. 

* * *

Richie Tozier is, and Eddie is not exaggerating, the worst human being on the planet. And the human part is debatable. He walks up to their library table, _ uninvited and unwanted_, and sits down like the chair has his name on it. 

“_What’s up losers?” _

And Eddie can’t tell you exactly what his problem is. If you asked him what about Richie bugs the shit out of him, he’d just wave his hand at all of him because it should be self-explanatory. They’ve never even really interacted. Turns out Richie was just busy burning out his welcome in his own house and decided to claim Eddie’s friends as a last resort. But whatever it is, it completely destroys Eddie’s brain to mouth filter.

“Who invited this fucking clown?”

And he’s not sure who kicks him in the shin because Mike, Bev, and Stan are _ all _ glaring at him. But Bill is shaking with laughter, and Richie looks _ delighted_. It’s a bad sign, and it only gets worse. 

“You don’t have to invite charity; the gift just shows up!”

And Eddie would strangle him with his tie, except Richie doesn’t wear a tie, not like a normal human being. He’s got it tied around his head like a headband, and he’s smirking like he knows exactly what Eddie’s thinking. 

“Thanks, we hate it. Where’s the gift receipt?”

Richie just laughs and punches Bill in the shoulder. 

“Bill, I love this kid. Where’d you find him?”

“We’re the same age, asshole!” 

Eddie’s standing up at this point, and Richie stands up too, but all he does is stand next to him and hold up a hand to measure the distance in their heights. 

“Could have fooled me, kid.”

Eddie turns to his _ actual _ friends for support, but all three of the traitors are just staring at them like they’re watching tv, and Eddie barely stops himself from screaming. He stomps his foot instead, and it’s somehow worse. He doesn’t speak to any of them for two days, and they all think it’s too funny to even pretend to be upset. It’s the start of a long pattern. 

They have potions with the Slytherins which seems to be a time (dis)honored tradition. He threatens Bev with bodily harm if she partners with Bill--not out of jealousy but out of genuine fear that he’d be stuck with Richie. 

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to work with him.”

“Do you know what the hospitalization rate is for potion accidents? And it might not even be an accident!”

Bev rolls her eyes but swears not to leave him. 

It doesn’t really help. Eddie is terrible at potions, which makes _ no sense _ because it should just be science. He can follow intricate directions with no problems whatsoever _ (invigoration potion in the morning, half a tablespoon, calming draught no later than 2pm, quarter cup, sleeping draught no earlier than 9pm, half a cup) _. But it doesn’t matter that he stirs six times clockwise, then 8 times counterclockwise, and that he takes the time to evenly cut up their ingredients, without fail, Richie beats him. 

_ “It’s an art, not a science darling.” _ And Eddie should have punched him for the accent alone. 

Currently, Riche’s staring at him from across the dungeon, glancing pointedly at the silver mist over his cauldron and then over to the trash fire bubbling away in front of Eddie and Bev. Richie blows him a kiss, and Eddie flips him off and lands his ass in detention. Mike at least pretends to look sympathetic, but Stan just shakes his head. 

* * *

The year comes to a close in an academic panic, where even Richie is seen cracking open a textbook, and Stan charms his notecards to be waterproof so that even his nightly baths are productive. Bev chugs coffee and rewrites her notes over and over again to make them stick, and Eddie is 97% sure that his hair is falling out from stress, and Bill has to go to Pomfrey because he’s been grinding his teeth so hard in his sleep that he can’t open his jaw wide enough to eat. Mike falls asleep in his breakfast three different times, and only two of them notice the first time. It’s a rough couple of weeks. 

But they come out on the other side of finals free and clear and all of them, minus Richie, swearing they’ll be better prepared next year. 

He shrugs. “Why lie?”

Eddie thinks he has a point, but he’d rather die than agree out loud, so he just keeps his mouth shut. He’s too anxious at that point anyways. It’s time to go home, and he’s dreading every second of it. The train ride back is both better and worse. Better, because he’s in a cabin packed with his friends, and they’re shouting and laughing over each other, and Stan and Bill are trying to play chess without a board, and Mike and Bev are arguing _ again _ about Fitchburg’s odds against Sweetwater, and Richie keeps trying to toss bertie’s beans into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie wouldn’t give this up for the world. But it’s worse because now he knows what he’s giving up. For the next three months at least, and knowing that takes the fun out of it a bit. When they start to approach the station, Bev sends him a look, and he knows she feels the same. They’ve come a long way from that first train ride, and she squeezes his hand as they disembark. 

“Three months and counting.”

Eddie spends the summer writing to his friends, daydreaming about his school, and telling increasingly mundane lies to his mother about his first year. They write, frequently, and their letters are haphazardly sent via owl or mail depending on who’s writing and receiving. Mrs. Kaspbrak doesn’t believe in owls (“unsanitary, honestly unbearable”), and Bev just gives them a P.O. box. They end up in a giant chain letter as it bounces from loser to loser, and someone creates a code and puzzles, and soon enough it’s so completely indecipherable to anyone outside their group, that even his mother quits trying to snoop. The first month is about as good as it can be, separated as they are, until one day Bill stops responding. Three days go by before Richie starts up another letter, sending it out of their normal order to see if anyone’s heard from Bill. Eddie hasn’t and neither have Bev or Mike. It’s another week before Stan writes and says that something happened to his brother, and that he won’t be writing for a while, that Bill might not even come back this year for school. They start up yet another chain, specifically for Bill with notes from each of them throughout the summer with thoughts and jokes for him. (Richie mocks it and calls it “The Loser’s Club Newsletter”, but he writes an entry a week like clockwork). They never hear back from Bill, but Mike says they should keep going. 

_ “Sometimes it’s nice just to know people are there for you, even if you can’t talk or don’t want to.” _

There’s a story there, but they leave it alone because some shit is too heavy for pre-teens. They keep a calendar in the letter and cross out the days when it gets to them. Eddie has it the night before they go back. He crosses out the final box, writes _ “See you soon”, _and sends it to Bill one last time. 

* * *

Their second year goes like this: 

Awful.


	2. Year 2 (in letters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Losers, 
> 
> Is anyone besides Mike paying attention in class? Banshees are spirits; hags are beings--Beep, Beep, Richie for whatever joke you’re going to make about screwing around with either one of them. -

“So, any news?”

The cabin is quiet, and nobody seems to know what to do. Stan just looks away, and it’s Mike who answers. 

“They still don’t know what happened. They found Georgie’s body, what was left of it. They had a funeral and everything, but they’re keeping Bill home for the year. We can still write though.”

Richie snorts. “You think if I send him my homework, he’ll do it for me?”

Eddie and Bev both roll their eyes, and Richie throws his hands up. 

“What? It’s not like he’s got anything else going on!”

This time it’s Stan who glares at Richie, and Eddie kicks him in the shin.

“Shut up, Rich.”

“Only cause you asked, S’ghetti,” Richie sneers before he turns to stare out the window. 

"Knock it off, you guys." Bev throws her legs up on the opposite seat and into Stan’s lap. He pulls out his favorite quill and starts doodling on her ankle. They sit in silence for a while, and Eddie's terrified it's going to be like this for the entire ride in when Mike gives him a sly smile. He turns to Richie. 

“Hey Rich, with Bill out of commission, looks like you’re going to need a new potions partner.”

Bev snorts, and Richie perks up. 

“Holy shit, you’re totally right, Senor Miguel! Mr. Kaspbrak, may I have this honor?”

Eddie’s neck cracks with how hard he shakes it. 

“No, absolutely not. I would literally rather die.”

* * *

The upside is that Eddie’s potions scores have never been better. The downside is that he’s somehow ended up attached at the hip to Richie Tozier, who is surprisingly clingy. Eddie doesn’t even try to be nice about it.   
“Don’t you have any other friends?”

Richie snatches a piece of toast from his plate and stuffs his face before bothering to answer. 

“No.”

He doesn’t bother sitting at the Slytherin table anymore. He just crashes at their section in the Gryffindor area, and once he moved over, Stan and Mike followed. 

“Right, I forgot. Even Slytherins think you’re a dick.”

And for a while, that had boggled Eddie’s mind--how Richie had gone from being welcomed to the table with cheers to being tripped in the corridors and pushed into the lake (_ “Dude, I totally got to second with the squid” _). Turns out joking and fooling around was funny until you started losing house points for it. 115 points in the first two months of school was more than the Slytherins could bear apparently, and Richie, and by extension Bill, found that out the hard way. Now that Richie is flying solo at the Slytherin table, it seems like he’s given up the illusion of house unity. Doesn’t mean Eddie has to like it. 

“Not everyone recognizes genius when they see it.”

“Explains the glasses.”

“_F__ashion, dahling. _”

Eddie smacks Richie’s hand when he tries to steal his bacon and points at him with his fork. More specifically at the snitch covered monstrosity of a shirt peeking out from his robes.

“You wouldn’t know fashion if it hit you over the head with a firebolt.”

Richie gives up on the bacon and goes for the homefries instead. Eddie smacks his hand again and pulls his plate further away, jostling Stan who sighs and disappears further behind his Daily Prophet. Richie settles for grabbing Eddie’s orange juice. 

“Yeah, you’re not one to talk, shortstack. Exactly how many country club polos do you own?”

Eddie sputters because _ rude _. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Bev cuts in. “Ignore him, Eddie. I think they look cute. Very you.”

“And just what the hell is _ that _ supposed to mean?”

Stan reappears from behind the newspaper and sets it down, long suffering. 

“It means none of you know how to tie a proper tie, with or without a wand, and the color wheel is a foreign concept.”

Richie reaches out to pinch Eddie’s cheeks, “it means we think you’re cute, cute, cute, Eds,” and while Eddie’s busy slapping his hands away, Bev snatches bacon off his plate. 

“I hate you, I hate all of you. There is literally a bowl of bacon right there, stop stealing mine. _ And don’t call me Eds _.”

(Stan sees him fiddling with his tie before Transfiguration and fixes it for him without a word and shoots him a small smile. And Eddie considers it a serious moment of growth when he doesn’t say anything when Richie shows up to breakfast with an Eldredge knot and settles for sharing a conspiratorial look with Mike who taps his nose with his wand.)

* * *

They set up a semi permanent camp at a back table in the library. Bowers wouldn’t be caught dead in a library, and it’s easier than trying to get five people from four different houses into one common room without any issues. 

“You know, we could always set up shop in the Shrieking Shack,” Mike half jokes, balancing his books as Bev drags over another table. 

“Hey, you guys know why they call it the ‘Shrieking Shack’?” Richie asks, and Eddie immediately jerks around.

“_Don’t _.”

Richie waggles his eyebrows. “Cause a couple of first years caught me in there with Mrs. K-”

And Eddie doesn’t quite tackle him, but he hits him with enough force that Mike’s books fall over with a large crash, and the glare they get from Madame Pince is the same one they get from Stan.

Richie levitates all of Mike’s books back onto the table, in the right order no less, and straightens up the chairs as well. And hadn’t that been a shocker--Richie had the strongest charms scores out of all of them. He aims his hand at Eddie like he’s thinking of levitating him onto the table too. Eddie pulls his own wand out. “_Don’t _.”

“Rich, knock it off and come help me with this stupid shrinking charm.”

Richie twirls his wand around his fingers and swans past Eddie.

“See? People just can’t seem to get enough of me and my wand.”

“Beep, Beep, Richie.”

* * *

Stan flat out refuses to copy homework, and Mike offers help figuring it out. But Bev and Richie are just blatant cheaters, and Eddie operates on a trade system.

Bev is the only one who can stay awake during History of Magic, and Richie charms her quill so that the notes she takes are at least semi-legible. Stan will, begrudgingly, look over their star charts for Astronomy, usually in exchange for Richie’s help proofreading his potions essays, and then for Eddie’s help getting rid of all the dicks Richie tucks away in the margins.

At some point or another, everyone has to give in and ask Eddie for Transfiguration help. 

“You have to focus,” he says for the millionth time, “and keep your wand steady. Your grip is too loose.”

“I’ll show you a tight grip,” and Eddie doesn’t even hesitate to hit Richie with a tickle charm. It’s worth the detention. 

They struggle a bit with Defense Against the Dark Arts without Bill there to help them along. It’s Bev who suggests they send their stuff to Bill. 

“How come when it’s her idea, we go for it, but when it’s mine, I’m an asshole?” Richie asks, and there’s a collective eye roll as they go up to the owlery. 

“Because you _ are _ an asshole,” Stan replies, glancing around the room to find his owl.

He whistles, and a large eastern barn owl swoops down. Eddie jumps back, out of habit and maybe a little fear. Richie glances at him. 

“Get out of the way, Kaspbrak. Never stand between a man and his lady bird. Ophelia, my love!” and Richie moves in between him and the bird and doesn’t say anything when she takes off and Eddie flinches back.

“Is anyone else concerned that we just sent off our essays to someone who might not send them back?”

“He’ll send them back,” Stan says, quiet but sure. “And I made copies. Just in case.”

They don’t need to worry. Ophelia lands at their table three days later with all their edited essays and a letter addressed to ‘The Loser’s Club’. They go outside to the quidditch pitch to read it. 

_ Dear Losers, _

_ Is anyone besides Mike paying attention in class? Banshees are spirits; hags are beings--Beep, Beep, Richie for whatever joke you’re going to make about screwing around with either one of them. - _

Bev smirks at Richie who had already opened his mouth. Stan kicks him in the leg, and he closes his mouth. Bev keeps reading.

_ I’m guessing someone charmed Bev’s quill cause I can actually read what she wrote- _

Bev makes a face, but keeps going-

_ Eddie, buddy, we gotta talk about commas- _

Eddie’s too happy to hear from Bill to do anything more than snort-

_ But other than that, they look good. How’re the house teams shaping up? I saw that the Kestrals beat the Magpies - Mike you owe me six sickles. Has Eddie caught a snitch yet? I still think he’d be a good seeker--and no, Richie, it’s not because he’s short. _

“What the hell? Why’s he telling all my jokes for me?!”

_ But maybe Rich can be your beater- _

And all of them say, “Beep, Beep, Richie” and he just flips them all off. 

_ Is Bower’s still being an asshole or did we finally get lucky and he got kicked out? I miss you guys. Tell me everything. _

_ P.S. Eddie keep an eye out for the mail _

_ P.P.S. Stan, I already fed Ophelia, so don’t let her bug you for treats. _

_ Love, _

_ Bill _

“What an a-hole.” Richie’s sprawled on the bleachers, but he’s got a small smile on his face. 

Mike snorts. “Not his fault your jokes predictable. Maybe you’re just not as original as you thought.”

“I could have told you that months ago.” Richie pinches Bev, and she promptly shoves him off the bleachers. Stan hands them their essays.

“Read’em and weep.”

And just like that, Bill is back into their orbit. Once a week, Stan collects their essays and letters and ships them off with Ophelia.

(When she shows up carrying Bill’s broom, Silver, Eddie just sends back a torn piece of parchment with eight exclamation marks and gets a smiley face back.)

Sometimes they send group letters, but there’s an unspoken pact that sealed notes stay closed. Bill responds like clockwork. 

_ Dear Bill-iam, _

_ The snakepit isn’t the same without you. These a-holes wouldn’t know a good joke if it hatched in front of them. See? Snake joke, no laughs. There’s a good chance you’re the only freaking person in this entire damn dungeon who has a sense of humor, and how said is that? Speaking of, I’ve discovered that the trick to pranking Eddie is to use muggle shit. I stuck his fanny pack to his cauldron, and he spent half the day trying to undo a sticking charm. Jokes on him--gorilla glue. Should have seen him, he was _ this _ close to setting it on fire. Still can’t believe you gave him your broom. What about me?? _

_ Kiss, Kiss, _

_ Richie _

_ Bill!! You will not freaking believe what Richie did--he glued my bag to my cauldron?? Asshole knows I can’t do charms for shit, and he just stood there laughing! And you know why? Because he GLUED them! Which, I didn’t even know was a thing?! Why did you bring him over to our table? We were happy Bill!! I had never been in detention before I met Richie Tozier, and now I’m on detention seven. SEVEN. Do you know what the employment rate is for expelled students? 27% I’m going to get kicked out and spend my life cleaning toilets by HAND because they’re gonna snap my wand in half and-- _

_ -ignore him, Bill. He’s been like this all day. _

_ Shut up, Stan! Write back soon! - Eddie :) _

_ Hey Bill, _

_ How you been, man? Stupid question, right? I don’t know if you got my other letter. The one about my parents, but trust me when I say, I get it. People think they do, they say a lot of shit like, “things happen for a reason” or “time heals all wounds” or whatever. But it doesn’t. It still hurts. Every day. It got a little easier, but it took a long time. And it’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it, but you can if you want. _

_ Take care, _

_ Mike _

_ Hey Bill :) _

_ I won’t ask if you’re okay, but I hope these letters help. It was really sweet to lend Eddie your broom--but he won’t shut up about it. And I’m pretty sure he stole a broomcare kit from the quidditch storage shed(!) to take care of it. So Silver is in good hands (we never leave it with Richie unsupervised which doesn’t really happen anyways cause he only goes flying if Eddie does). Did you know Stan is actually a really good chaser?? AND we finally got Eddie to try butterbeer. He’s so weird about shit like that. I think it has to do with his mom. But now he’s addicted and basically threw a fit when we told him you have to buy it in Hogsmeade. Also send me your bracket! There’s a league starting up, and the pot is 30 galleons! _

_ Miss you! _

_ Bev _

_ Dear Bill, _

_ Did you know that our friends are idiots? Eddie turned Richie’s favorite shirt, you know the one with the nifflers? Into a tea towel, but he couldn’t figure out how to turn it back, so Richie jinxed him, and he’s just been croaking like a frog for two hours. So, you know, good times. _

_ Are you sleeping? You looked like shit the last time I saw you, so I gotta ask. Also, don’t let Bev talk shit. Just because I don’t follow the sport doesn’t mean I can’t catch a ball. _

_ Knight F6 _

_ Love, _

_ Stan _

* * *

_ Eddie, _

_ Don’t open the package at the table. It’s itching powder. Do with it what you will. And I promise that if you get expelled, you can live with me, rent free. All you have to do is cook and clean, and that’s only two toilets. You can even use gloves. _

_ The trick with Richie is not to react. He’s trying to annoy you. Just beep, beep, and move on. _

_ Richie, _

_ Are you trying to give Eddie a heart attack? There are easier ways of telling someone you like them. I’m sorry no one laughed at your snake pun. I thought it was egg-cellent. _

_ Bev, _

_ Put me in for 2 galleons (DO NOT GIVE RICHIE MY MONEY). Bracket’s attached, and don’t make any changes. Don’t let Stan fool you, either. You get him on a good broom, and he’s amazing. Also, don’t let Eddie try firewhiskey without me. _

_ Mike, _

_ I did, and I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I just, couldn’t. It’s all I think about - when I dream, it’s about Georgie, as soon as I wake up, it’s Georgie. It never goes away. I’m just angry all the time. My dad freaked out cause I just started trashing my room. I couldn’t stop myself. I hate it. Does that go away? _

_ Stan, _

_ Yeah, but they’re our idiots. _

_ I feel like all I do is sleep. _

_ Rook B4 _

_ Love, _

_ Bill _

_ Bill-iam, _

_ Not even dignifying that with a response. Egg-cellent? That’s hiss-terical.   
_ _Also, itching powder? Really?? _

_ -Richie _

_ Bill, _

_ Beep, Beep, Motherfucker. _

_ -Eddie _

_ Bill, _

_ I’m still angry to be honest. Depends on the day, who I’m mad at. Me or my parents or the entire fucking universe. I lost my shit on my grandpa’s farm once. Took the tractor and just started mowing everything down. By the time he found me, I was crying like a baby in the front seat. He left me alone, but whooped my ass later. I felt better though. _

_ -Mike _

_ Bill, _

_ I know my mom would rather die than share her secret peach cobbler recipe, but hopefully it cheers you up for Thanksgiving: _

**_Filling_****_  
_** _5–6 large _**_fresh yellow peaches_**_, sliced__  
_ _1/4 cup _****_sugar_

  * _**_Topping_**_
  * _1/2 cup salted butter, melted_
  * _3/4 cup _**_sugar_**
  * _1 teaspoon _**_vanilla_**
  * _1 cup _**_flour_**
  * _1 teaspoon _**_baking powder_**
  * _a pinch of _**_salt_**
  * _1/4 cup _**_brown sugar_**
  * **_Oven 350, 30 minutes_**
  * **_Broiler 475, 10 minutes but add brown sugar on top first_**

<strike> _ P.S. Tell your mom that I’ll bring the meat if she provides the stuffing _ </strike>   
_ P.P.S Beep, Beep, Richie, you asshole _ _   
_P.P.P.S Bishop D2

* * *

_Hey Bill, __  
__I think the only person who doesn’t want to go home for Christmas more than me is Eddie. He’s been chugging his “calming draughts” like they’re water. I wish he’d tell us what’s wrong, but I guess none of us really talk about our families, do we? Holidays are always hard after someone dies. No one wants to admit that they’d rather cry in bed than pretend to be happy and drink eggnog. You’ve probably heard this a million times, but just in case you haven’t: it’s okay to feel shitty. Be as fucking miserable as you want. But also, open your next letter outside and not late at night.__  
_ _Love,__  
_ _Bev_

_Dude, _

_ What the fuck is in all those potions Eds always drinking? _

_ -R _

It’s true, Eddie is going through potions like vitamins, which he’s also taking, but he doesn’t feel any calmer. Richie grabs his hand and flattens his fingers where they’re drumming against the table. 

“Damn, dude. Chill. What’s up with you?”

And Eddie can’t answer because he doesn’t know either. He hasn’t felt this nervous in months. He’s more anxious to leave his friends for two weeks than he was to leave his mother for a year, and Eddie has no idea what the hell to do with _ that _ feeling. 

They send off Bill’s Christmas letter, a yuletide howler that’s basically just Mike and Bev’s heartfelt attempt to sing “Baby It's Cold Outside” while Eddie and Stan try to sing “Let it Snow” and they’re completely overshadowed by Richie’s loud and off pitch version of the “Chanukah song”. It’s a nightmare to listen to, and Eddie’s positive Bill will love it. 

He keeps that in mind as he settles into the train compartment with Stan who has a look on his face that Eddie doesn’t like at all. 

“What?”

“Why do you hate going home?”

“I don’t hate going home. I’d just rather stay here. They’re not the same thing.”

Stan nods. “Right, but not for you. You know if something’s wrong, you can talk to us right?”

And Eddie knows then, that this has been talked about behind his back, and his hackles are up instantly. 

“Have you guys been like, discussing this when I’m not around?”

Stan doesn’t even blink. “Yeah, we have. You’ve been acting weird all week, and you do this every time we’re about to go on break. Why are you afraid to go home?”

Eddie glares. “First of all, I’m not. And second of all, even if I was, it’d be none of your fucking business.”

And Stan looks hurt, but unsurprised, and he shrugs. 

“If you say so.”

They don’t speak for the rest of the ride, and when they disembark, he gets a nod. Eddie’s mom swarms him before he can say goodbye to Stan, and he almost misses the assessing look Stan is giving Mrs. Kaspbrak. 

“Just what in the world are they doing to you at that school?” Sonia tuts and pinches his cheeks and peers into his face. By the time they get home, she’s asked him about his diet, his sleep schedule, his potions, “and you are taking them, darling, right?” and Eddie is so thrown by her calling him darling because the only person who calls him darling is Richie, who only says it when he’s teasing him. And yet, it sounds so much fonder coming from Richie than his own mom, who’s interrogating him about every aspect of his life to make sure he’s fine. And he is. He’s never looked better, felt better. But his mom is still looking at him like something’s wrong. 

“You just, you look so pale, tired. You need rest, sweetheart.”

And that’s how he ends up spending most of his break in bed, bundled up and swaddled and dying to be anywhere but his bed. He looks at his face in the mirror and doesn’t see a damn thing wrong. He looks normal. And feels fine. But he puts up with it because doing anything else is exhausting. The more she takes care of him, the happier she seems. 

_ Empty nest, it’s just empty nest syndrome. 38% of parents say that they have felt a sense of empty nest syndrome at some point in their lives. She just misses you. _

But when she takes his temperature for the fifth time in three days, he knows that something is wrong. 

He doesn’t get any gifts from the losers on Christmas, but he suspects they’ll be waiting for him at school. His mother seems to like the lack of competition. He pretends he’s thrilled with the new fanny pack and portable medkit, and she coos over him in a way that sets his teeth on edge. He crawls into bed and counts the days til school starts again. 

When he finds Stan on the train, they don’t say anything. But Stan shares a pack of peppermint fudge, and Eddie twists his foot around Stan’s ankle, and he thinks he’s forgiven. 

(He comes back to a small pile of presents including a charmed yo-yo, a beautiful new quill that definitely came from Ophelia, a pair of hand knitted gloves, a new exploding snap set, and a twelve pack of butterbeer. He drinks three of them that night, but he figures he’s earned it.)

* * *

After Christmas, the year flies by. 

“Just because it isn’t Transfiguration, that doesn’t mean the wand work isn’t important.” Richie looks like he wants to pull his hair out, and Eddie’s caught between wanting to take advantage of serious-actually useful-Richie to get his charms scores up and teasing the shit out of Richie to see how long before he snaps. 

“I’m not saying it’s not important. I just don’t get why it’s not working.”

“You’re too rigid. You’re moving your wand with your shoulder. Use your wrist.”

And Eddie just stares at him, because _ come on _ there were at _least_ three innuendos in that sentence alone, but Richie’s just staring at him and waiting for him to try again. 

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy keen, Eds. I’ll be even better once this dick I’m tutoring figures out how to freeze this bug without turning it into a button or killing it.”

“Prick.”

Richie grabs his hand, fixes his grip, and then circles around his wrist. He shakes his arm.

“Relax. Try again.”

He does. It takes four more tries, but eventually he does in fact get the bug to freeze.

“You know, you’re actually not bad at this, Rich.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what your mom-”

“Shut up.”

* * *

In March, Bill tells them that he’s going to take exams during the summer, and as long as he passes them, he’ll be back for third year.   
  
“No way he doesn’t pass; he’s been doing our homework all year,” Eddie jokes, and Richie smiles at him. Eddie grins back. He glances over at Stan who’s pulling a bright blue feather from a second scroll. Eddie catches a glimpse of the note- “ _ saw a blue jobberknoll and thought of you _ ” before Stan folds it and the feather away with care. Eddie meets Bev’s eyes, and she shakes her head quickly, and he keeps his mouth shut.   
  
“He better. Two of our chaser’s are graduating. He needs to get his ass on the team. Hey do you think they’ll let me announce?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can you imagine?”

“He’d get kicked out two minutes into the match.”

“Yeah, but he can’t be any worse than Hockstetter.”

“Thank you, Stan.”

* * *

In May, Bev gets her first period, and Eddie somehow ends up being the one who talks to her. 

“She was your friend first.”

“You’re in the same house.”

“She barely tolerates me on her best days. Bleeding and angry about it? No way. I’ll take my chances with the whomping willow. Man up, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds, trashmouth. And I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

He doesn’t tell her that, but he does sit still and let her cry on his shoulder.

“This is like a normal thing though, right? Like, you guys all have it?”

He’s pretty sure he should have a better idea of how all that shit works, and he’s 100% sure that normally she’d be pissing herself laughing at him. But she’s just sobbing into his shirt, and all he can hear is “he’s going to kill me...it’s all different now.”

And Eddie has no fucking idea what the hell she’s talking about, but he’s pretty sure he’s in over his head.

“Have you talked to the nurse? I don’t think I’ve got anything in my med kit, but I can check?”

Bev laughs, watery, and Eddie has never seen her look so terrible. 

“No, Eds. I’m good. I’ll be fine.”

Eddie doesn’t buy it but doesn’t know what to say at this point. So, he lets it go. 

“Richie compared you to the whomping willow,” and it’s enough to make her smile, and she holds still when he taps at her face to vanish her tears. 

In four months, he remembers this exact moment and wishes he had a time turner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone should know how menstruation works, but realistically, twelve year old boys are dumb.


	3. Year 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it’s Ben, sweet, brilliant, dorky Ben who finds the Room of Requirements.  
The first time he shows them, even Richie is stunned into silence. But not for long.  
“Ben, you fucking nerd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for more aggressive mentions of child abuse/sexual abuse. There's nothing graphic, but it's brought up and talked about.

Third year starts with a bang. Literally. They greet Bill with what’s supposed to be one of the smaller whizz bang sparklers but ends up being a mess of shooting stars and explosions. Richie loses his eyebrows _ which serves him right _, and Eddie’s once pristine pink polo is now smudged with purple ash. But it’s worth the stupid smile on Bill’s face when they drag him into the compartment. 

“I-I missed you g-guys, too.”

And technically, the cabin can fit six people comfortably, so they have more than enough space. But they lounge in a dysfunctional puppy pile so that everyone manages to touch a part of Bill. 

Mike, Stan, and Bill all seem to have hit their first growth spurt over the summer, and the only justice in the world is that Richie’s only grown an inch or two. _ Assholes _. 

“S-so what d-did you l-losers do this s-summer?”

And it’s jarring to hear the stammer after months of reading Bill’s words in their heads. Eddie can tell by Bev’s face that he’s not the only one thrown off. Bill picks up on it. 

“B-bad right? I-It got worse af-after G-georgie. Letters are e-easier. I’m s-sorry.”

Richie throws an arm around Bill’s shoulders.

“I don’t know about you jerk-offs, but I already read Billy-boy’s letters with a stutter. I wanted the full Denbrough e-e-experience.”

“Oh, fuck off, R-rich.” Bill pulls him into a headlock, and they end up in a heap on the floor. Bill’s laughing, and Eddie watches the tension leave Stan’s shoulders. 

“_ Welcome back, bitch!” _

* * *

They sign up for electives for the first time, and it’s a mess getting everyone’s schedules ironed out. 

Eddie flat-out refuses to study Care of Magical Creatures (_ Do I look like I want to be murdered by hippogriffs?? _)

Stan refuses to take Divination, and none of them will let Eddie even consider taking it 

(_ You think you’re a mess now? Wait til you start seeing death omens everywhere you look. Who says I’m a mess?? _)

So, Bev ends up swapping tea cups and tea leaves with Richie who buys a large, gaudy turban to wear specifically for the class (_ It seems to get bigger and gaudier each week _)

Bill and Eddie decide on Muggle Studies (_ You wouldn’t believe what their healthcare system is like. Their ERs look like warzones. My mom and I watch their trauma channel _)

Stan and Richie take Arithmancy, and Stan comes back from their first class looking furious (_ Who pissed in your pumpkin juice? Richie that bad? No, he’s good. He’s really fucking good. He doesn’t even have to study! _)

Mike, Stan, and Eddie take Ancient Ruins. (_ Stan and Eddie instantly regret it, and they make Mike swear to help them. _)

Bill and Mike and Bev take Care of Magical Creatures, and by the end of the second week, they come back with a stray. 

“Hey guys, this is Ben.”

Mike’s dragged over a kid from the Hufflepuff table, chubby and shy and staring at Bev like she hung the moon. Eddie looks at Richie and rolls his eyes, and Richie snickers to himself. 

“What’s up haystack? Where you been hiding?”

Ben shrugs. “Just transferred.”

“H-he’s in Care of Magical C-creatures. Knows more about them t-than the t-teacher.” Bill knocks his shoulder with his, and Ben smiles.

Stan snorts. “Well, I’m glad you like animals. You’re going to be hanging out with the grossest one here.” He glances pointedly at Richie who’s stuffing a cupcake in his face. 

“Thank you, Stanley. It’s funny; Mrs. K said the same thing the first time I-”

Eddie doesn’t let him finish the sentence--just tackles him off his chair. Stan sighs. 

“This happens a lot.”

‘A lot, a lot,” Mike adds, as he steps around them.

“Should we do something?” Ben sounds concerned, and Eddie would say something, but Richie’s giving him the noogie of his life. 

“No,” his asshole traitors friends say, in unison. Richie pats Eddie’s head, but doesn’t let him go.

“What Eds and I have is special, Benjamin. You wouldn’t stand in the way of true love now, would you?”

“I’ll show you special, Tozier, you fucking asshole,” but it comes out muffled, and all Eddie hears is laughter when Richie drops a kiss on his head and lets him go. Eddie doesn’t need a mirror to know that his hair is a goddamn disaster. He glares at Richie who’s beaming.

“Cute beyond words, Eds.”

Eddie points at him. “This isn’t over, asswipe. And don’t call me Eds.”

Mike claps Ben on the back. “You get used to it.”

* * *

Ben fits in perfectly. He might actually be the only person in the entire school who never tells Richie to shut up. Richie goes on a tear of dick jokes, and Ben just smiles at him until he runs out of steam, and then Ben changes the topic. 

“How are you able to just, not like, snap?” Eddie is incredulous. 

Ben shrugs. “He wants a reaction. You just have to outlast him. Even when you just roll your eyes, you’re letting him win.”

Eddie shakes his head because that’s not even an option. “I can’t do that. He makes me want to set things on fire. And if I don’t make him shut up, who will?”

“Yeah, well. That’s why he likes you best.” And Ben is grinning and giving him a look that Eddie does not like _ at all _.

But other than that bit of bullshit, Eddie loves him. 

And it’s Ben, sweet, brilliant, dorky Ben who finds the Room of Requirements.

The first time he shows them, even Richie is stunned into silence. But not for long. 

“Ben, you fucking nerd.”

They move from the library to what basically becomes their clubhouse. It’s the same room each time, but things change depending on who opens it. 

Stan always has tea waiting, and whatever books he’s using in the library seem to follow him down. Bill keeps his sketches there, big canvases and small sketchbooks. Mike creates some kind of couch-fuzzy-blanket-pillow nest that without fail sucks at least one loser into an impromptu nap. There’s a New Kids on the Block poster that lives behind the door, and everyone assumes it’s from Bev. But Eddie is like 97% sure that it’s Ben’s, and when he squints at Bev, she just winks at him. 

Eddie has a hammock. That he never gets to use because Richie is _ an asshole _ and is always in it when he comes in.

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Get.Out.”

“Get.In.”

This happens every time. Every.Fucking.Time. And it works. It’s a routine shoving match where no one really wins, but Eddie’ll be damned if he loses. He ends up wedged between Richie’s knees and doesn’t hesitate to knock his glasses off with his feet. The third time this happens, Ben speaks up.

“Why don’t you guys just set up another hammock?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Because it’s _ my _ fucking hammock, and I shouldn’t have to get another one?!”

Eddie glares at Richie who doesn’t even glance up from his Quibbler. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stan rolling his eyes at Bill who’s snickering behind his hand.

“I’ll just leave you to it then,” and Ben goes over to the couch. Eddie’s trying to read ahead for Muggle Studies but struggling to focus when the hammock starts gently swaying. Eddie peers over the top of his textbook and watches Richie slide his wand back behind his ears. 

(They both fall asleep, and when Eddie wakes up, Richie’s passed out with a hand curled around Eddie’s ankle. He’s too comfortable to move, and when they get up to go to dinner, they don’t talk about it.)

So, maybe sharing a hammock isn’t totally terrible.

* * *

Fall passes in a blur. They watch Bill try and fail to make the Slytherin quidditch team. 

They play pick-up games to cheer him up and to get ready for next year. Mike is a better keeper than Ben, who gets too easily distracted cheering for everyone. Eddie’s stuck using a school broom, and Bill grins at him.

“Not as smooth as S-silver, huh?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Shove it, Bill. I’ll still find the snitch before you.”

They both stay high above the game and out of the way of the knock-down-drag-out happening between Bev and Stan. Bev is, on her best days, a force to be reckoned with, but Stan is matching her at every turn, and it’s driving her up the wall. He shoots up from below her and knocks the quaffle right out of her hands as she goes to chuck it. He flies to the goal hoops where Mike waiting and watching for Stan’s tell. Bev takes off like a shot towards Stan, but a bludger forces her to belly roll, and her yell distracts Mike just long enough for Stan to score.

Bev glares over her shoulder at Richie who salutes her with the bat. There’s a loud woop from Ben who’s watching Eddie and Bill take off. Bill has Silver, but Eddie is naturally faster, and he loops through the middle hoop with ease, while Bill cuts too wide and loses the edge. Eddie grabs the snitch, and he hears cheers and wolf whistles as he does a victory lap around the field. 

“You’re gonna try out next year, right?”

They’re on the ground, sprawled out on the grass, and Eddie doesn’t remember ever being this happy. He smiles at Mike.

“I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Richie and Bev spend the entirety of October celebrating Halloween (_ we’re witches and wizards! October was made for us _ ). Bev dresses up as a different witch every day--ruby red slippers, striped stockings, and Richie charms her nose to twitch. When it’s actually Halloween, Bev and Richie do a couple’s costume based off of the album art for _ Rumours _ and spend most of the day explaining why Stevie Nicks is superior to every known witch since Morgana. The rest of them dress up as skeletons, complete with bone clicking noise whenever they sit down or bump into things. Eddie transfigures anything and everything he can get his hands on into tiny pumpkins ( _ they’re cute; look at their little stems!) _ Their enthusiasm is matched by the rest of the school, and the feast ends up being a candy fueled free for all that lasts way longer than any other feast Eddie can remember. 

And it goes great, really great, til the boggart. 

By some stroke of luck, they all end up in the same Defense Against the Dark Arts class and, it seems easy, in theory. Scary monster, spell, laugh, finito. Eddie watches a snake turn into a balloon animal, a mummy turn into a pile of toilet paper, a velociraptor ends up in a wedding veil. But tt goes wrong when it gets to Mike. A crocodile turns into a body, on fire and stumbling around, blindly reaching for him, and Mike freezes. Bill pushes him out of the way and comes face to face with Georgie Denbrough in a yellow rain slicker and missing an arm. Bill’s wand drops.

“G-g-georgie?”

“Bill don’t!” Richie throws a hand out to grab Bill when he moves towards the thing wearing Georgie’s face. “Hey, dickwad! Try that shit on me, man. I don’t even _ like _ my sister!”

The boggart shifts into a clown as it turns away from Bill, who staggers backwards. Richie gulps then frowns. “That the best you can do? _ Riddikulus _!”

But nothing happens, and the clown steps closer to him. 

“I know your secret, Rich, your dirty, dirty secret,” and Richie goes from nervous to downright terrified, and his second “_ Riddikulus! _” comes out as a weak croak. Beverly steps up in front of Richie, and the clown pauses and starts to morph. A gaunt, disheveled man appears and reaches for her. 

“You’re still my little girl, right Bevvie? Still mine,” and one hand clamps around her arm and the other tight around her throat, a thumb caressing her cheek. And Eddie can see the professor shoving his way towards him, but more importantly he can see the terrified look on her face and the panic and he's got to do something because he is a _ gryffindor goddammit _. 

“Hey, fuckface, over here!” And Bev’s father, _ her fucking father _, turns and shifts into a body that looks like it crawled up from the bottom of a 15th century plague pit. There’s black goo dripping from the corners of its mouth, and it’s heaving like it’s going to vomit, and Eddie throws his wand up. 

“_ RIDDIKULUS! _” And when the leper opens its mouth, a stream of glitter comes shooting out. There’s a moment of absolute silence as everyone looks at each other, covered head to toe in body glitter. Richie’s the first to laugh, loud and genuine, and when everyone joins in, the boggart disappears with a pop. There are a few cheers and claps on his back, but Eddie ignores them and pushes to get to his friends. Ben is next to Mike who looks awful, staring at his shaking hands. Stan is crouched down with Bill who’s on the ground, hunched over his knees. Richie is standing with them and attempting to shake the glitter out of his hair.

“Eds! Who knew you had it in you? But I mean, glitter? Really? You couldn’t do like a chicken cluck or some shit?”

“You need a shower anyways,” Eddie says, only half paying attention because, _ where’s Bev? _

“Yeah, well, don’t be surprised when you see your mom, and she’s sparkling from head to toe-”

“Beep, Beep, Richie,” Eddie says out of habit, and he looks at Stan who tilts his head towards the corridor. Eddie goes to look, but Bev is quick, and by the time he’s out the door, she’s gone.

Class ends, and Eddie can feel the looks they’re getting. Most people are joking about the glitter, but he knows everyone’s going to be gossiping about them--about why their monsters are so much worse and so much more _ human _ than everyone else's. Eddie ignores them and slips out of the class, and he can feel his friends following behind. 

The losers slowly split off. Ben guides Mike to their common room, and Mike and Bill bump fists before he disappears inside. They walk towards the Slytherin dungeons, and Stan gives Richie a pleading look. Richie sighs dramatically. 

“Say please.”

“Please. Asshole.”

“Only cause you asked so nicely.”

Richie vanishes the glitter from Stanley’s everything and taps Stanley’s hair twice for good measure. He does the same for Bill who wiggles away when Richie starts poking him with his wand in increasingly uncomfortable places. Eddie steps forward, and Richie pauses. Eddie’s been able to get most of the glitter off of his clothes, and he’s wiped his face ten million times. But he can see specks of it flying from his hair anytime he moves his head too fast. So, he’s not in the mood for Richie’s bullshit.

“You gonna clean this shit up or what?”

Richie stares at him, a weird look on his face.

“Nah, I think I’ll just leave it. S’good look on you, Eds.” And Eddie’s pretty sure he should be angry because _ fuck you, Rich I don’t want to go into my common room with glitter on my face either _, but Richie’s shaking the glitter out of his own hair, and Bill and Stan are sharing a look that Eddie does not understand. It’s a weird moment, so Eddie just lets it go.

“Fine, be a prick. And don’t call me Eds.”

He stomps off and when he gets to the Fat Lady, he heads straight for their bathroom. But it’s not nearly as horrific as Eddie’s expecting. He’s mostly just shimmering around his eyes and hair. So...whatever. He calls it a day, and if Richie looks a little weird at dinner, then that’s his problem.

Eddie waits in the common room for Bev and falls asleep before she gets back. She shakes him awake on the couch. 

“Eddie, wake up. Eds.”

He swats at her hand, half-asleep. “Don’t call me Eds.”

She laughs, and it comes out wretched. “Fine. Rise and shine, Mr.Kaspbrak.”

“Bev, Bev!” Eddie shoots up. “Oh my god, are you okay? We waited for you at dinner, but you never showed up. Are you, are you okay?”

And it’s a stupid question because _ of course _ she’s not okay. She looks like she’s been crying all day, and her lips are shredded like she’s been chewing them raw. But she looks calm. Better than she’s looked in weeks, and Eddie touches the bottles in his bag, half expecting one of the calming draughts to be missing.

“I was in the infirmary and then the headmaster’s office. They contacted my aunt. I’ll be staying with her, during breaks. They had to explain everything to her. She didn’t know about um, magic, and everything.”

She breaks a little at ‘_ everything _ ’, and her face scrunches up like she’s going to cry. Eddie automatically reaches out to her but hesitates because maybe she doesn’t want to be touched and _ god, how many times has he touched her without thinking, without asking? _ But Bev leans into him and wraps her arms tight around him. They sit like that for a while. His shirt is soaked, and he can feel her snot on his neck, and it doesn’t fucking matter because _it’s Bev_. Eventually, her breathing evens out, and she squeezes him once before she sits up. He smooths her hair away from her face. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bev pauses and thinks about it. “No, not yet. They’ve got a doctor from St. Mungo’s. I can talk to her. They said I can use my free period on Thursdays to go see her. And I can owl her whenever I need to. I think, I think that’ll help.”

“But, you’re okay?”

Bev shakes her head. “No. But I think I will be. I’m better than I was.”

“You will be,” Eddie says fiercely, because she’s amazing and smart and better than everyone in this entire fucking school. She smiles and touches his face.  
  
“You were great today.”

“Ugh, don’t start. We actually had to ask Richie for help to get rid of the glitter.”

She smiles. “Didn’t do a good job. You look like you’ve been partying with the fae.”

Eddie throws his hands up. “He refused to finish! Said it was a ‘good look’, freaking asshole.”

Bev looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Very ethereal.”

“Right, ethereal. I’m sure that’s what he was thinking.”

She pinches his cheek. “Cute, cute, cute.”

He shoves her away. “Fuck off.”

There’s an odd moment at breakfast where they try to figure out who’s going to say what.  
  
“My parents burned alive in front of me.”

“My dad’s a monster creep.”

“I c-can’t s-stop th-thinking about G-g-georgie.”

They all turn to look at Richie who shrugs.

“Clowns are creepy.” And it’s more than that, Eddie knows it is, and while Richie’s looking away from them, the losers look at each other - _ I know your secret, your dirty little secret _\- but they let it go.

“None of that shit is as scary as Ebola. Do you guys have any idea of how quickly it spreads?”

“Quicker than your mom’s legs?”

Hitting Richie with the bat bogey hex is _ well _ worth the detention. 

* * *

Before Eddie can blink, it’s December, and this time, he stays at Hogwarts. A scarlet red howler that arrives at the breakfast table, and he hauls enough ass that he actually makes it out of the great hall when it goes off. It’s ugly and shrill and the embarrassment makes him want to die. Bill is waiting inside the castle entrance for him, and he slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and walks with him to the clubhouse. Nobody mentions it, not even Richie, and it’s more than enough to remind him that staying is worth it. 

They set up a Christmas tree, and it should take two hours to set it up and decorate it. But it takes them an entire day because Bill and Mike keep eating the popcorn garlands, and Stan and Bev argue about white lights versus colored lights. Eddie and Ben spend most of the day hand making ornaments while Richie half-assedly pretends to be helpful.

The next time they go in, there’s a Menorah set up, and Eddie watches Richie quietly teach Stan the charm to light it each night (_ but without the fire because fire hazards are real, Richie _).

Gifts this year are basically just an exchange of candies and pranks, and they all end up leaving them in the clubhouse for group use anyways. There’s a care package waiting for Eddie in his dorm, and he slides it in the space under his bed without a thought. There’s also an ornament laying on his pillow--a glass bubble with green and gold smoke swirling and shimmering inside. It’s a twin to the green and silver one Richie had added to the tree, the one that had sparked a debate about an “inter-house unity tree”, the one that Eddie kept coming back to whenever they tweaked the tree. He keeps it on his bedside table and finds himself watching it as he falls asleep. The next time she’s in his room, Bev stares at it for a minute before giving him a pointed look.

“What? It’s pretty.”

She hums. “Green and gold. House unity is alive. Praise be!”

“Shut up!” and Eddie pokes and pushes her out of the room and tries not to read too much into it. 

(He doesn’t bring it up with Richie. Ever. But there may or may not be a new stack of comics waiting in their hammock, and this time when they get settled in, Eddie makes the effort to keep his feet out of Richie’s face. It’s the best Christmas he’s ever had.)

Classes post-holiday are like a slap to the face, and between the workload, the weather, and the reality of being in close quarters with a million other people, Eddie isn’t surprised when he gets sick. 

“Eddie Spaghetti, you look like shit.”

“Fuck off.”

If he looks half as bad as he feels, then Eddie does indeed look like shit. He’s propped up on the table, trying to decide if drinking orange juice is worth the pain from the sandpaper in his throat. Mike slides over a cup of hot lemon tea, and Stan pours honey into it. 

“I think you need to go to the nurse.”

“I’m fine.” But he’s not. His head is pounding, just swallowing is agony, and his nose can’t decide if it’s runny or stuffed.

“Yeah, dude you’re really not.” Ben looks sympathetic but also a bit grossed out. 

“It’s fine. I just have to wait until the pepper-up kicks in.”

“What do you mean ‘kicks in’? What potion did you take?” It’s Richie, and his voice is sharp enough that Eddie lifts his head out of his hands.

“I just said pepper-up.”

“Where did you get it? Did you make it yourself?”

Eddie snorts, which hurts like a motherfucker. “What and poison myself? No, it’s from one of my medikits.”

“From your mom?”

“Yes, Richie. From Mrs.Kaspbrak. What jokes are you gonna make? Hmm? You’re the real ‘pick me up’?”

Richie doesn’t blink. “I think you should go to the nurse. Come on.”

Richie gets up and tries to wrangle Eddie out of his seat. Not a single damn one of their friends try to help him; they just move glasses and cups out of the way of his flailing limbs. Richie manhandles him all the way to the infirmary. The nurse parks him on a bed, and he glares up at Richie. 

“Rich, c’mon. I’ll be fine. I just need like fifteen more minutes. You can’t double dose. I’m gonna OD.”

Richie shakes his head, frowning. “You’re not gonna OD. And if you do, you’re already in the infirmary. Please, just drink it.”

And Richie never looks this worried, and Eddie really does feel like shit, so he throws the potion back like a shot and instantly regrets it. His head is on fire, and he can see the smoke coming out of his ears. He tries to glare at Richie because he’s dying, he’s definitely dying. But after another minute or two, the smoke clears. And so does his head. And his nose. He’s still exhausted, but he insists on sleeping in his own bed. Richie goes with him, keeps hovering beside him like Eddie’s going to fall. They walk in silence, and Eddie doesn’t say anything when Richie follows him into the Gryffindor common room and all the way up to his room. Richie pauses when he sees the ornament on his bedside table, but he doesn’t say anything. Eddie crawls into bed and stares at the ceiling.

“It was probably just expired. Potions don’t last forever, you know?”

“Yeah, probably.” But Richie doesn’t sound like he believes that. Eddie doesn’t sound like he believes it either, but that’s what it has to be, right? He turns to Richie who looks conflicted for a moment and then closes his mouth in a tight line.

“Scoot over.”

Eddie isn’t sure he’s heard him right, but Richie has already thrown his glasses onto the table, next to his ornament, and he’s kicked his shoes off. So, Eddie does.

“You’re going to miss class.”

“Don’t need to go. It’s divination. And I see...myself taking a nap.” He slips in next to Eddie who rolls his eyes.

“Wow, such talent.”

“I know, right?”

Richie doesn’t try to spoon him or anything; he actually turns away from him as soon as he’s situated. But he twines his leg around Eddie’s, and Eddie nods right off. 

(If the others wonder why Richie missed class or why they both come to dinner, crusty-eyed and stumbling, they don’t say anything. They do give them a complete set of notes from their classes, and none of them say ‘I told you so’, which is the true gift.)

It isn’t until a couple weeks later, when Eddie runs out of calming draught and goes to grab the kit under his bed that he realizes Richie has already gone through it. He storms into the clubhouse, medkit hitting his knee with every step he takes, and the entire room goes quiet. Richie had clearly been in the middle of telling a joke, and the smile on his face immediately drops as soon as he sees the box in Eddie’s hands.

“Where the fuck are my potions?”

Everyone turns to look at Richie who gets out of the hammock and leans against Stan’s table.

“What potions?”

Eddie opens his mouth, but Richie continues, “those weren’t potions. I don’t know what the fuck they were, but they weren’t calming draughts or invigorating potions or whatever the fuck. I threw them out.”

Spontaneous combustion is probably not real, but Eddie feels goddamn close.

“You did what?” His voice cracks, but he’s too fucking furious to give a shit.

Richie crosses his arms and shuffles his feet, but he doesn’t back down.

“I threw them out.”

“You had _ no right _. What the actual fuck, Richie? I need those!”

“No, you don’t.”

Eddie throws the box to the ground. “I’m sorry, do you have a fucking medical degree?”

“Does your mom?” 

“Fuck you! You don’t know what I need. You don’t know fucking anything!”

“Fine! Fine. You need that shit, go to the nurse. You need them so bad, go get the real thing! Because it’s the same stuff, right?”

And Eddie wants to cry, because _ fuck everything _ , and this isn’t how today was supposed to go, and he hates how fucking anxious he feels without his potions, and he _ really _ fucking hates that something _ is _ wrong, and that maybe Richie has a point. He’s quiet for too long.

Richie takes a step towards him. “I’m right. You know I’m right.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

And Richie stops, and the look on his face is worried, and Eddie has never seen Richie look this serious, and _ fuck fuck fuck _. He knows everyone is watching him, and he can’t stand it, so he turns and runs away. 

He crawls into bed and doesn’t move for anything. After dinner, he hears the door open and knows that it’s Bev. 

“Eddie?”

He doesn’t respond, and he keeps his back to her. She sets something down on his table and leaves. When he rolls over, he sees that it’s a sandwich and an apple. The guilt is enough to make him lose what little appetite he had, and he just burrows deeper into the blankets. He’s lucky; he’s having his breakdown on a Friday. Saturday comes and goes. He shuffles out to go to the great hall on skewed hours so that he misses his friends, and then he goes right back upstairs. He feels like shit, emotionally and physically; the guilt and anxiety make him nauseous, and he feels like he’s jittering out of his skin. By Sunday, the losers have had enough. Mike, Bill and Stan appear in his room, and he feels Stan’s cold, thin fingers sneak under the covers and wrap around his ankles. That’s all the warning he gets before he’s dragged off of his bed.

“Time’s up, Kaspbrak. You need a shower and real food. Come on.”

Mike hauls him up, and Stan piles his blankets back on the bed. They all get a look at him, and he’s not sure what they see, but it’s not good.

Bill pulls out some clothes and hands them to Eddie. 

“W-we’ll w-wait here, Eds.”

Mike gently pushes him towards the door, and Eddie doesn’t fight them. The shower feels good, and he only throws up a little. 

By the time he comes back, he does feel a little better.

“No one has ever felt _ worse _ after taking a hot shower. You might not feel better, but you won’t feel worse,” Mike says, and technically he’s right. Eddie gives him a small smile, and it’s enough to get them all moving. Eddie squints at the bright light in the great hall, his head threatening to explode, and he’s too miserable to fight back as they steer him into the seat between Bev and Ben, and across from Richie. Ben smiles at him, and Bev leans into him. Richie keeps his eyes on his plate. 

“Hi, Rich.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, but he knows Richie hears him. He nods.

“Eddie Spaghetti.” He’s quiet too, and everyone’s a bit awkward. Stan pushes a plate of food to him. Eddie reaches for it and prays that everyone just pretends nothing’s wrong. He’s not that lucky. 

“You feeling okay?” It’s Ben who asks, nice, non-confrontational Ben, and everyone’s holding their breath.

Eddie shrugs and pokes at the waffle on his plate, uncomfortable. So, Richie does what he does best; he talks.

“So, Staniel, do you wanna know what I saw in the old crystal ball the other day?”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Your own dumb reflection?”

“No, my good sir. I saw Billiam stealing your remembrall and then losing it in the Slytherin dungeons.

Bill’s mouth drops. “W-what the hell, R-rich?”

Stan glares. “Dammit, Bill! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for that?”

They devolve pretty quickly into loud bickering, and Bev leans a little harder into Eddie.

“Seriously, you okay?”

“I-” Eddie pauses. Richie is still egging on the fight between Stan and Bill, but he twists his ankle around Eddie’s, so he knows he’s listening. 

“Babe?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m good.

She looks relieved. “Good. You should go get some fresh air; you look like hell. It’s supposed to snow again. You want me to go with?”

Eddie looks up at Richie who’s already staring back. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay. You’re gonna need to referee.”

The remembrall argument has turned into a debate about quidditch rules and whether or not it makes sense for school games to follow international standards, and it’s all going over Eddie’s head. He stands up to leave, a little wobbly, and he’s completely unsurprised when it’s Richie who gets up to steady him. He drops his hand as soon as Eddie’s good, but he stays close by as they head out. It’s freezing outside, and Eddie regrets leaving the great hall almost immediately. 

“This is how people get pneumonia. Why did we come out here again?” 

“Because you look adorable in winter gear.”

Richie turns and loops his scarf around Eddie’s neck, fussing with it.

“Cute. Cute. Cute.”

And Eddie should punch him, but there are snowflakes disappearing into Richie’s hair, and he actually looks happy to be there with him. 

“I’m sorry, Rich.”

Richie shrugs and looks down at his feet. 

“Yeah, me too, Eds. We’re just worried, ya know?”

And Eddie does know. Even if he isn’t ready to deal with it. He taps the bottle in his pocket, the same one he’s been fiddling with since Friday. He leaves it there and tugs the scarf higher up to cover his cheeks.

“Ten minutes. Ten minutes and then we’re going back inside and changing into dry clothes.”

Richie laughs and links his arm through Eddie’s. “If I knew all it took was a little snow to get you out of your clothes, I’d have flown you to Antarctica months ago.”

“Antarctica is a desert dumbass. There’s like, barely any snow.”

“No snow, huh?”

Eddie can see the idea coming from a mile away, and he pulls away from Richie and takes off before he can get a real snowball going. It’s a half hour before they actually make it inside, and Eddie’s soaked. Richie’s teeth are chattering, and his cheeks are bright red, and the smile on his face is just this side of manic. It’s kind of worth the second dose of pepper-up he insists on taking. 

He doesn’t quite stop taking his potions. He just doesn’t _ always _take them. And he’s always got at least three on him at all times. But it’s a start. 

Spring flies by, and Eddie grows two inches, successfully turns Ophelia’s claws into steel, and successfully hides from Stan for nine solid hours afterwards. More importantly, he watches Bev come back to herself. He didn’t realize how much she’d been holding in until she comes back.

Beverly Marsh who starts wearing red lipstick again, who convinces Stan of all people, to break curfew to play a midnight pick up game, who is very loud and blatant whenever she has cramps and tosses a tampon at them just to hear Bill screech like a banshee, who reaches out first when someone needs a hug. For the first time, she’s flying high to get to summer--(_ they swear that this year they’re actually going to see each other during vacation _).and it’s the best thing Eddie’s ever seen. 

The train ride home has never been so smooth.

  



End file.
